


I don't want to talk about it

by EllowynTheNotKing



Series: 100 500 word Fics From Simple Sentances [23]
Category: Malcolm in the Middle
Genre: (I hope that's how you spell his name), Gen, I'm not sure where the inspiration for this came from, Reese is doing something kinda good with his life, Vigilantism, vigilante Reese Wilkenson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24623344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllowynTheNotKing/pseuds/EllowynTheNotKing
Summary: Reese is a little different since he disappeared, but at least he's doing some good?
Series: 100 500 word Fics From Simple Sentances [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612570
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	I don't want to talk about it

When Reese had reappeared after being missing for over three months, he seemed like a whole different person.

Though his refrain was the same no matter who he talked to; I don't want to talk about it.

He still liked cooking. He still would punch anyone who looked at his little brothers wrong (including his little brothers) or who made a disparaging remark to him.

He was quieter now. More prone to introspection than picking fights for fun. That isn't to say that he stopped picking fights for fun. He definitely still did that.

His fighting form had also changed. Before when he picked fights it was a tear up, knockdown fight where he and whoever he was fighting ended up bruised and bloody. Now, when he did pick fights they tended to be of the two hit style, Reese hit his opponent, and they hit the floor. Sometimes he would drag it out for his own fun, but he was never the one that ended up a bruised, bleeding mess.

Those fights were never the fights he started anyway. Those were the fights that the "local Strong man" would pick to stroke their own ego, not realizing the random kid they would pick was actually more dangerous in a fight than they were.

His family did notice that he started taking late-night walks. But they didn't know what he did on them.

He would walk till he reached the city, then, walk around until inevitably a random street thug would approach him. Usually, with the intent to mug, sometimes with other intents, he would wait for attempted robbery, for an attempt on his life, for an attempt of another sort.

Then he would do what he had started doing best.

He would knock out his would-be attackers, taking whatever they had on their person (wallets, cellphones, cash, jewelry...) and writing "Theif" on their foreheads. It usually got his point across anyway.

Wallets would have money removed, then be tossed in the nearest mailbox to hopefully be returned to their owners. Cellphones and jewelry would be placed in a large envelope or box and dropped off with a cop or at the stations.

Everything else tended to make its way home with him. More small bits and bobs would go home with him than ever before, but he knew he was doing good even without getting so many things home to their owners.

He marked up how much money he made. When officially asked he said he was a handyman, and since no one asked more than that, he never said more than that.

He wasn't who he was before. Anyone who had met him before could say that. The vigilante act was certainly a surprise to those who knew but seemed to fit the new him.

And on the day he disappeared out their lives again, his family couldn't say they were surprised. Though now they knew he had left of his own power, to hopefully go somewhere better.

**Author's Note:**

> Where am I? How did I get here? How did you get here?  
> *Wanders off stage, pursued by a loudly meowing cat*


End file.
